PURIFY : Fred Weasley

28: Ditched

So, as it turns out, cursing someone after curfew is bound to get you detention. I must serve it with Professor Umbridge as well. There, she leads me down to a desk, with only a quill and a sheet of paper.

"Now, you shall be writing lines today, okay?" she giggles a bit at the end of her sentence, which makes my stomach churn.

"Alright," I say. I sit down in front of her.

She turns her back and heads to the desk. There, she sits down and looks up at me. "You shall write "I must not curse my classmates" a hundred times. Does that sound fair?"

I nod. I pick up the quill and begin writing.

My hand sears in pain as I write the first line.

She gave me a blood quill.

I don't argue. Instead, I try to get the lines done as fast as possible. My hand aches and I begin to see blood dripping down onto my wrist. The room is loud, and I am constantly distracted by the meowing of a cat and the sound of her china teacup clanging against her saucer.

Eventually, I leave. And I leave quickly. I go to the hospital wing for a bandage, but because I won't say what for, I end up walking out empty-handed. On my way out the door, I spot Bronwyn, with her swollen head, sleeping in bed.

I approach her, hoping that I don't startle her awake. I stare at her and wonder if that's what I looked like, a few weeks ago. She should be better by now, a simple tincture can cure the charm I put upon her. It's hard not to feel bad for her, after everything she has put me through. No one deserves suffering, not even the wretched.

If I weren't already on a mission, I'd go to the greenhouse and get her some flowers. Instead, I tap my wand on a cup and transfigure it into a bouquet. I'll never apologize to her; she doesn't deserve it. However, hopefully, she will look at these flowers and think that there is someone out there who loves her.

A betrayal to Silas stems from my wand. Maybe there are no good people in this world. Only people who make good and bad choices. Only the desperate, doing whatever they can to survive.

I hope that's not true. I'd like to be a good person one day. Maybe I'm not there yet, but I'd like to be.

It is just after dinner, so I head to the library. Robbie should hopefully be somewhere inside, buried in a textbook. She's a prefect, and she's obsessed with healing, so she should have access to a bandage somewhere.

I'm almost right. I find her at our usual table, but instead of a textbook, her eyes scan the two ginger twins across from her. All three of them have their heads tilted in, and they are whispering together.

Which means I'm going to have to interrupt them. Shite. "Robbie?"

All three heads whip around to look at me. The Weasley twins pull back from Robbie. I try not to look at them, since I don't really know how to navigate the space after my fight with Fred. Was it even a fight?

Robbie blinks, her lips parted open, before she is finally able to speak. "Yes?"

"I need a bandage," I manage, keeping my whole body still. My hands are tucked in my pockets carefully. It stings to have the fabric brush up against the injury, but I don't care.

Robbie furrows her brow. She gets up from the table and heads over to me. "Tell Harry I will be late."

"Late for what?" I ask.

"We're coming," Fred pipes in. He looks over at George, who slowly nods.

Robbie pauses and glares at them. "Who will tell Harry that we aren't coming?"